


Hello, Goodbye

by cptraydorsgf



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptraydorsgf/pseuds/cptraydorsgf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RPF fanfiction featuring Mary McDonnell and Kyra Sedgwick of "The Closer" after the SAG Panel interview of the entire cast.</p><p>You can watch the interview here: http://www.screencast.com/t/3mnMvXF6nZAC</p><p>Some spoilers for the interview.  Very little plot and very explicit sex between two beautiful women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> RPF is kind of wrong, but it isn't the worst thing I've ever done.

The SAG Panel was the one concession Mary made to her agent this summer. He had been absolutely insisting she use the summer session of “The Closer” to promote “Major Crimes” and get her name and face out there as much as possible. She had flatly refused to do a whole big press junket with eight hundred interviews where she answers the same questions in the same ways with different words in different outfits. Certainly not when she had already planned a trip to New York to visit her daughter, probably their last family vacation before her son went off the college out of state in the fall. But if the whole cast was going to be there, it would be in exceptionally poor taste for her not to show up, especially if she will be heading “Major Crimes,” and especially as she is the newest cast member. Mary had taken that to mean he had already accepted on her behalf and had rolled her eyes before agreeing to go, as long as he stayed out of contact while she was away from LA. And after all, a panel was definitely preferable to a solo interview where all attention was focused on her all the time. At least this way, she wasn’t going to be the only one talking. And she did always have fun at those convention panels she always used to do for “Battlestar Galactica.” So Mary had agreed, which is how she found herself on a soundstage under too bright lights with a microphone resting lightly in her palm. And she is oddly glad.  
She and Kyra were remarkably in sync from the start. Kyra sat reclined against the back of her chair with her long legs crossed the knee, her entire body tilted back and almost too far to her left, leaning towards Mary behind her. In fact, if Mary’s row of chairs hadn’t been a bit higher, Kyra’s kinky curly blonde hair would have obstructed her view in front of herself. Mary also found herself clapping whenever Kyra did, or maybe Kyra clapped whenever she did. And when Mary saw Kyra scrunch a section of her wildly styled hair, it was far too late to stop her own hand in mid-muss of her auburn tresses. And then Kyra leans in to John’s embrace and accepts his kiss to the crown of her head, but her body automatically shifts back to reaching behind itself for Mary’s space.  
Maybe Kyra is stoned, is the first thought that Mary consciously processes after the younger woman finally removes her warm hand from Mary’s thigh, then her knee, then her other thigh, then the top of her thigh, then her hip, then her lower stomach, then her thigh again and then whatever part of Mary’s legs she can physically caress from her awkward position. Because the younger woman may be a little more on the touchy-feely side than Mary herself, but she had not up to this point seen Kyra practically feel up a costar on what is practically live television. And she has certainly never felt Kyra do this to her. Except maybe that one day in wardrobe when she had stroked Mary’s hair while complimenting its texture, but maybe she had been stoned then, too. Then the audiences’ chuckles reach Mary’s ears; her comment had its desired effect and she comes back to herself steadfastly refusing to consider that it may not be the bright lights causing the flush to spread over her skin.  
Or maybe Kyra isn’t stoned. Because she is certainly listening intently to Mary’s description of the dynamic between two women in power and her brown eyes are startlingly focused and clear as Mary can’t resist glancing briefly into them. But she draws her attention back to the room in front of her because, and she isn’t sure about this, but she thinks that she is supposed to be talking to them. She will adamantly deny that the energy in her shifted when she noticed Kyra nodding in agreement exactly as she says “something happens chemically.” If she noticed the ironic timing at all. Which she didn’t.  
Mary also most certainly didn’t notice that Kyra started stuttering and grasping for speech when she tousled her hair after pulling on her sweater. Just like she doesn’t have to work to purse her lips against the half smile half smirk that is threatening her mouth at hearing Kyra discuss how Brenda’s southern style clothes represent a contrast between her fragility/femininity and power/strength. Because those words are definitely Mary’s. “But that bag” is out of her mouth before she even realizes she is grabbing Tony’s microphone and it’s a good thing Kyra makes her QVC joke because now she has a reason for her wide smile.  
Mary feels Kyra’s eyes on her immediately and resists for long seconds before she caves and meets the other woman’s gaze. And then Kyra is reaching out for her again, grasping her thigh and squeezing lightly. There is no reason for it except maybe for Kyra to agree with Jeff that this job has been awesome and wonderful and acknowledge that Mary has been a part of that. Or to answer GW’s question “what are we going to take with us?” Maybe for Kyra to say she’ll be taking Mary with her. And her touch is so warm and sweet that before Mary can stop herself, she is reaching to rub the soft skin of Kyra’s arm. A connection. A dazzling smile breaks out on Kyra’s beautiful face and Mary squeezes her wrist in response. And then the moment is over and Mary hopes the way she scratches her neck and subtly crosses her legs isn’t as noticeable as the expression of nervousness and warmth on her face surely was.  
It isn’t intentional, but Mary finds herself nodding along with Jeff as he explains that the only way for love to end is in loss. Because, she risks a glance at Kyra, sometimes there is nothing to be done except grieve. And anyways, there are lots of kinds of love and lots of kinds of loss. She smiles, and then claps at GW’s joke, because she really doesn’t want her eyes to well with tears.  
This time Kyra’s touch comes to her knee and it’s just a swift caress, a brief connection. Despite the fact that she has never said it, she knows Kyra understands her nervousness about the success of “Major Crimes.” She is counting on the ensemble cast to stay together but secretly fears it won’t be enough without their young, dynamic blonde leader. The touch is an encouragement, letting Mary know that Kyra will be supporting her from afar if not on set and that she believes in her. Or maybe this is Kyra’s way of saying her show doesn’t have a chance and she feels kind of bad for her about it. But Mary doubts that.  
She also doubts it was strictly necessary to tap Kyra’s shoulder in acknowledgment of the other woman’s cheer at her impromptu “Dances with Wolves” reenactment but somehow her hand is drawn to the other woman’s skin. It is the first touch she has initiated tonight and she might not have had Kyra’s style, or her courage, to make her contact an actual caress but when she brings her hand back a second time, she thinks she has adequately expressed herself. As well as proven her point. Whatever the hell it was. And when Kyra keeps reconnecting their gaze and smiling and shaking her head and looking impressed, Mary doesn’t look away and doesn’t hide her smile.  
Mary didn’t realize that she had been expecting this until she feels Kyra’s hand on the small of her back propelling her into the other woman’s dressing room and she isn’t surprised. The press of Kyra’s lips is incredibly soft and the light pressure of her hands running through Mary’s hair is incredibly sensual. Mary means to ask “what are you doing?” She means to ask “why now?” She means to tell Kyra to stop. But then Kyra’s tongue is tracing her lower lip and Kyra’s palms are cradling Mary’s face so very tenderly and all Mary can do is moan low in her throat. Kyra’s tongue in her mouth is soft and searching, meeting her own tongue and urging it to dance and twine with hers. Mary can’t help herself as she responds to the most skillful kiss she has ever received. Her hands find Kyra’s slim hips and hold her close to Mary’s body. Kyra brushes Mary’s hair away from her neck and trails her full lips along Mary’s cheek, jawline and then her neck before bringing them up to her ear with a light flick of her tongue. And Mary is moaning in response to the fiery path Kyra took and the younger woman’s breath is so hot against her tingling flesh. “You are so beautiful,” Kyra whispers as she nibbles Mary’s earlobe. Mary’s head lolls to the side, unwittingly opening herself further for the other woman. Kyra’s hands rest on Mary’s waist and draw themselves up her torso, tracing the shape of her with warm palms. “So sexy,” she continues and her voice is deeper and huskier than Mary has ever heard it. The sound zips through her body and lights her spine on fire with want. “I have to.” Kyra says, like it’s an explanation, like it’s her way of asking permission. “We have to.” And, absurdly, Mary realizes she’s right. They do have to, of course they have to. They have had to for years, years they spent rushing straight towards this inevitable moment and prolonging it with torturous, sweet anticipation. And now the show is ending and Kyra will go back east so none of the reasons why not really matter much anymore. At least not enough to make Mary tell Kyra to stop trying to tug her sweater off. Mary pulls away from Kyra’s hot mouth long enough to pull the sweater away from herself before grabbing the younger woman’s face and passionately reconnecting their lips, immediately pressing her tongue deeply between Kyra’s kiss-swollen lips and searching and tasting every inch of her delicious mouth. Kyra’s hands tug at Mary’s dress, pulling it up enough to push an insistent, denim clad thigh between Mary’s legs and up into her. Mary pulls her lips from Kyra’s mouth and groans in relief as her hips automatically shift against the pressure between her thighs. She reaches desperately under Kyra’s top to feel bare skin and scratches lightly with her nails before urging the top up and over Kyra’s head, mussing her impossibly blonde hair and then Mary’s hands are everywhere. She caresses every inch of pale peach skin she can possibly reach, tracing toned arms and the swells of breasts before dipping to outline perfectly muscled abs.  
“Gorgeous.” Mary mumbles against Kyra’s mouth before taking her lips again and swiftly undoing the button and zip of her jeans, pushing them down over slim hips before reaching behind Kyra to grab two delicious handfuls of perfectly firm ass. Kyra whimpers and shifts; if she thought she was going to be in charge of this little encounter she was incredibly confused because it may have been decades since Mary has had another woman but she has not forgotten where and how to touch and she needs to have Kyra now. Kyra’s hand skims up from its position on Mary’s hip to brush over a generous breast before reaching around her neck. Mary grabs it and its sister and pins them behind Kyra as she swiftly reverses their positions and presses Kyra back against the wall, never breaking contact with the thigh still resting between her legs. Kyra moans as her head falls back against the wall, surrendering herself to Mary who rewards her with a series of gentle nips and bites to the exposed column of her throat. Kyra pants as Mary’s teeth light her up and she wriggles, trying to get more contact, more friction, more anything. Mary’s hands reach for her waist again and push Kyra against the wall, re-iterating her silent assertion of control. With regret, she pulls her body off Kyra’s thigh long enough to drag her jeans down the younger woman’s legs and pull them off, along with her thoroughly ruined black thong. She drags her warm palms back up Kyra’s toned runners’ legs and encourages Kyra to spread them, to reveal herself. Mary shamelessly licks at Kyra’s skin, tracing the shape of her thighs and the points of her hipbones with her wicked tongue before nibbling on the protrusions. Kyra’s legs fall open and her hand tangles in Mary’s hair and tugs; she knows what’s coming next and she aches for it, aches for Mary to give it to her. Mary inhales the scent of Kyra’s musky arousal and groans against the younger woman’s body as she presses her tongue against wet folds. She drags her tongue through Kyra’s wetness and flicks teasingly at her clit before pressing just the tip of her tongue inside. “Kyra.” She whispers, and her lover’s name is thick as molasses on her lips. “God, so good.” And Kyra is writhing and shifting her hips, desperate for more. Mary bends her head back down and licks through Kyra’s folds again, separating puffy outer lips with her tongue and sucking them into her mouth. She circles her tight bud and lets her teeth drag ever so lightly over it. Kyra cries out and thrusts against Mary’s mouth, coating her lips and chin with sticky moisture. Mary grasps Kyra’s left leg just above her knee and urges the blonde to lift it onto her shoulder and Kyra slams her hand back against the wall in desperation as she opens herself, offering everything for Mary to take. With a soft moan against Kyra’s throbbing bundle of nerves, Mary caresses Kyra’s thigh, her fingers taking a direct path to her aching sex and she plunges two fingers instantly and deeply inside, curling them immediately to rub against that ridged wall. Kyra screams out at the fullness inside her and thrusts back hard against Mary’s fingers, taking them impossibly deeper and grinding down. The rhythm Mary sets is sharp and fast, thrusting inside of Kyra heavily, forcing her back against the wall. A low moan forces itself past Kyra’s parted lips every time Mary’s crooked finger hits that special spot deep inside of her and then Mary is suckling her aching clit into her mouth and coating it with long licks of her tongue and Kyra is coming. She shatters into a million pieces, bucking and writhing wildly above and on Mary, inner muscles clenching and contracting and releasing and squeezing, holding Mary’s fingers deep inside and her clit throbbing against the older woman’s circling tongue. She rides out her release against Mary’s shallow thrusts and slumps boneless against the wall, held up only by Mary’s steadying hand on her hip and the leg splayed lewdly over her shoulder.  
Mary is gentler now, licking Kyra’s still contracting sex with soft flicks of her tongue, cleaning the come from her folds and the insides of her thighs, humming softly at the tangy taste. She kisses up Kyra’s impossibly flat pelvis and over her stomach before nuzzling her nose briefly in the swell of her cleavage, still clad in a black lacy bra. She nudges her nose against Kyra’s throat before burrowing into her neck, breathing harshly against the staccato of the younger woman’s heartbeat. Kyra is panting into her ear, whimpering softly every so often as her body flushes in response to her mind blowing orgasm. Mary’s arms are wrapped securely around her waist and the kiss she presses just below Kyra’s ear is soft. “Good?” She asks softly and Kyra chokes out a laugh.  
“Good.” She pants. “So good.” She laughs again and the joyful sound makes Mary smile against her sweaty neck. “You’re very good at that.”  
“Thank you. It has been awhile.”  
“Oh? Not so long for me.” Kyra says this breezily so it doesn’t sound like the confession it is. Mary opens her mouth to respond, but Kyra cuts her off. “You just looked so beautiful tonight.” She makes this statement as if it is an explanation. “And I knew we would be incredible.” With that Kyra wraps her arms around Mary and cuddles into her body, smoothing her thumbs down over her hips, frowning at the feel of the fabric. She pulls away from Mary and starts pulling the dress up over her hips. Mary helps her pull it over her head and straightens her glasses. Standing in front of Kyra in just a pair of boy short underwear and a form fitting tee, she feels a sudden flash of insecurity. She takes great pleasure in her body and thinks it looks good for her age, but she cannot help the moment of self-consciousness at the idea of displaying herself to this goddess in front of her. If Kyra notices her moment she doesn’t comment, just clasps Mary’s hand and pulls her towards the sofa. She urges Mary to sit down and Mary settles herself on the soft cushions, her head tilted while watching Kyra. Kyra reaches behind herself and swiftly unclasps her bra, tossing it mindlessly into the general direction of the other clothes Mary had ripped off of her, allowing her ample breasts to fall free. Mary’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly behind her glasses, an expression strangely and endearingly reminiscent of Captain Raydor.  
“Perfect.” She whispers, awestruck, and Kyra smiles slyly. She allows Mary to look her fill before wandering slowly over to the other woman, letting her breasts sway and settles herself on Mary’s lap, breasts resting just under her chin. Mary’s hands immediately wrap around her waist and splay protectively over her lower back while Kyra cups her chin and tilts Mary’s lips to hers for a deep, slow kiss. Mary hums into Kyra’s mouth and responds to her kiss, meeting the other woman’s tongue and letting her set their pace, begin their slow burn. Kyra’s lips eventually move back to Mary’s neck and her fingers reach for the hem of her t shirt, pulling it up inch by torturous inch until it is bunched up underneath Mary’s breasts. She scratches lightly at Mary’s belly; she is not quite as toned as Kyra’s own but still firm and soft. Kyra pushes the shirt the rest of the way up her body, over the curves her breasts and Mary helps her whip it off. Kyra quickly unhooks her bra and moans in approval as two perfect globes are revealed to her hungry gaze. She trails her eyes over the full, firm flesh and licks her lips.  
“Lay back,” Kyra whispers and with a soft bite to her lower lip, Mary lets her body recline. Kyra follows, her hands stroking up the sides of Mary’s body, just lightly caressing the sensitive sides of her breasts. Mary watches through hooded eyes as Kyra lets her hands trail down, over her waist and the womanly curve of her hips. Kyra re-adjusts herself on top of Mary, sliding her body up to rest on her knees and moving one thigh to press between Mary’s legs, teasing her with the barest hint of pressure where she needs it most. Kyra leans over her lover, blonde tresses falling over her face and brushing the tips of Mary’s peaked breasts with tantalizing light brushes. Kyra starts a slow rock with her hips, pressing further up into Mary and then retreating, painting a line of arousal on her thigh. Mary’s eyes flutter closed as she feels Kyra’s wet heat coat her skin and reaches out to grip the blonde’s hips, nearly sobbing with need as she feels soft, pliant skin beneath her fingertips. Kyra hooks her fingers into Mary’s underwear and pulls it swiftly down and off before immediately cupping a hand to Mary’s swollen, aching sex.  
“Oh, god, YES!” Mary cries out as she throws her arm over her eyes and writhes against Kyra’s warm palm, desperately searching for friction.  
“No,” Kyra says, reaching up to grasp Mary’s hand and pulls it away from her eyes. “Let me see you.” Mary meets her eyes and the smoldering expression in Kyra’s chocolate orbs is enough to cause a pulse of moisture to coat the finger Kyra begins dragging through her folds.  
“Please,” Mary whispers, biting her lip against the tide of arousal crashing through her body. “Please.” Kyra leans down and drags her teeth along Mary’s thumping pulse point before sucking softly at the skin of her throat. Their breasts rub together and Kyra licks at Mary’s collarbone.  
“Please what?” Mary groans and shifts, thrusting her hips up against Kyra’s hand. Kyra lets her index finger slip ever so slightly inside Mary’s opening, teasing her with the smallest hint of penetration before drawing it back to tickle at the hood of her clit. Another gush of fluid meets her hand and if Mary wasn’t so damn aroused she would be embarrassed by her body’s wanton responses. Kyra doesn’t seem to mind though, her eyes grow impossibly darker and her voice goes husky at the feel of Mary’s wetness. “Please what?” Kyra repeats, her voice a low growl that has a ripple of ecstasy making its way through Mary’s entire needy body. Mary knows she will have to ask, have to say it, have to beg. She licks her impossibly dry lips and moans at the taste of Kyra still on them. And it’s enough to encourage her.  
“Please fuck me.” Her voice is aroused and breathy but it is still strong and commanding and Kyra almost gives in. She drags another finger through Mary’s sex and draws the two lightly from bottom to top through the thick juices of her arousal.  
“Mmmm,” she murmurs. “I could do that.” But she still doesn’t enter Mary and Mary is practically sobbing with frustration. Kyra lets her lips trail across Mary’s upper chest, tracing her freckles, and Mary is helpless under the weight of her stare. She holds Kyra’s eyes even as the blonde woman drags the flat of her tongue across Mary’s right nipple before wrapping her tongue around the erect bud and suckling obscenely. It’s so fucking hot and Mary thrashes against Kyra, desperately pumping her hips and reaching down to squeeze a handful of Kyra’s deliciously tight ass. Kyra releases her nipple with a gentle bite. She traces a path across Mary’s breast and licks the underside of the firm globe before returning her attention to Mary’s eyes. “I could go and get my strap on, pull it on right now and fuck you. You’re so wet,” Kyra continues, pumping the very tips of her two fingers ever so slightly into the source of the moisture. “That I bet you could take all of me inside you.” Mary’s hips twist against Kyra’s maddeningly light strokes. She reacts to the image of Kyra taking her this way but,  
“But that’s not what you want.” Kyra informs her. “You want my fingers and my mouth and you want my tenderness and my softness. You want gentle touches like this,” she caresses over Mary’s swollen lips with just her fingertips to illustrate her point. “Just like this until you’re absolutely crazy with need and pleasure. You want me to explore you and discover you and make you come so sweet and soft. You want me to make you feel treasured and beautiful and you want me to make love to you.” Mary’s eyes are wide with need and fear and Kyra drags her hand away from Mary’s warmth to cup her face and look deeply into the other woman’s eyes. “And that’s okay.” She says softly, pressing a slow, chaste kiss to Mary’s lips. “I can give you that.” And Mary is in awe of the younger woman. How can Kyra know her so well so quickly? Know what she needs and wants better than Mary herself knows, after sharing only one quick orgasm.  
Mary bites her lower lip again and nods, reaching up to brush Kyra’s hair out of her face and cup the other woman’s cheek. She doesn’t speak, because she can’t, but somehow Kyra understands and with a dazzling smile, she leans down to bring their mouths together in a sensual kiss. Their lips mesh and mold to each other and their tongues dance lightly within each other’s mouths. It’s slow and unhurried and it stokes a fire of desire in Mary’s belly. Kyra pulls away and straightens, allowing her eyes to trail over the supine body beneath her. She watches the flush spread from Mary’s cheeks to her neck down to her chest, dusting the tops of her breasts and Kyra lets her gaze travel to the full mounds, outlining their shape with her eyes. She watches pink nipples, dusky and darker than her own, pebble under her gaze and she brings her hand up to cup both of Mary’s breasts. She feels their weight in her hands and rubs in slow circles, feeling her nipples become even harder before rubbing over them with her thumbs. She moans her approval and leans down to flick with her tongue. She lets her lips and tongue travel between Mary’s breasts, suckling and licking softly, tasting the salty tang of her skin. Her hands splay possessively over Mary’s ribcage and roam down over her stomach before cupping her hips, claiming every inch of Mary’s soft skin she can reach as her own. Kyra lets her lips drop back to Mary’s body, pressing worshipful kisses to her stomach. She inhales the musky scent of Mary’s arousal and reaches to scratch her nails lightly over the tops of Mary’s thighs. She snakes her hand around Mary’s left leg and draws it open, urging Mary to spread herself and rest her foot on the floor. The move pries apart the sticky wet lips of her sex and Mary moans at the feel of the cool air on her. Kyra shifts further down on the couch and grasps her other ankle, pressing little kisses to it before drawing it up to rest on the back of the couch.  
Kyra shifts against the desperate arousal that hits her as she studies Mary through hooded eyes. She is perfect this way, hair fanned out in a halo around her beatific face, body laid bare and spread open, offered completely up for Kyra’s pleasure and Kyra is suddenly dizzy with the knowledge that this woman is hers. Maybe not for real and maybe not for long, but in this moment, willingly vulnerable and utterly exposed, Mary is giving herself over to Kyra and Kyra is struck by a need to not disappoint her. To not make her regret giving her this trust.  
“You’re beautiful.” Kyra finds herself whispering, her eyes traveling up and down Mary’s body. She learns the swell of her breasts, memorizes the exact shade of her nipples and studies with unabashed wonder the way her sex is swollen and pink and glistening. Mary blushes at the compliment, but steadfastly refuses to look away from Kyra. Kyra leans down to take her mouth in another deep, passionate kiss, but it is unlike their previous kisses. It is filled with awe and reverence and something Mary can’t name, but that tastes like adoration and that should scare her but it doesn’t. It makes her feel appreciated and beautiful and safe. And then Kyra is talking again because she finds she can’t seem to stop herself and she is telling Mary, “I want everything. I want to touch you and taste you and kiss you and be inside of you and make you come and deny you just to savor this. Can you…are you…?” It is the first time Kyra has hesitated since Mary has known her. “Can I…will it…how do you…?” She tries again and fails and so with a frustrated sigh, Kyra just brings her fingers back between Mary’s thighs and coats them in her moisture. She is humbled by the amount of wetness and warmth still waiting for her and with a soft moan she slides just one finger all the way inside of the woman beneath her. She shivers at the heat that tightens around her instantly and she caresses inside of Mary’s body, tracing her shape and the contours of her soft, spongy walls. She feels at once the same inside as Kyra’s own body feels and vastly different. Kyra drops her head and nuzzles Mary’s neck, kissing softly. “Okay?” She asks and she feels Mary’s body squeeze her again from deep inside.  
“More.” Mary chokes out and Kyra brings a second finger to meet her first and curls them both, savoring the contractions around her fingers.  
“You feel so good,” she is whispering in Mary’s ear as she strokes her inside. “So warm and wet and so tight. So very tight.” Mary moans as Kyra emphasizes her point by pushing just a little bit deeper and Mary feels the burning stretch to her toes and it’s so good, just the right side of pain and she digs her nails into Kyra’s back.  
“Been,” she gasps as Kyra’s fingers brush her g-spot. “Been awhile.” She explains.  
“Mmm,” Kyra murmurs, and she likes this more than she should. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” She stills the motion of her fingers and Mary keens, shaking her head forcefully in desperation.  
“No, no, so good. You feel so good. Don’t stop.” She gasps and clenches against Kyra. “God, don’t stop.” Kyra starts moving her fingers again immediately and the shock of ecstasy drags a cry from between Mary’s lips. “Yes, oh yes, fuck Kyra, yes.” Hearing her name fall from Mary’s lips in the heat of passion ignites something in Kyra and produces an answering pulse deep in her own sex, even as she feels Mary tighten further around her fingers. She growls possessively as she brings her thumb up to slide over the bundle of nerves at the apex of Mary’s sex.  
“Say it again, Mary.” She whispers, moving her thumb in tight circles. Mary’s thighs come up to wrap around Kyra’s waist, holding the woman firmly in place against her. “Say my name again.” She presses firmly against Mary’s clit and crooks her fingers.  
“Kyra!” Mary manages to cry out as her hips lift to meet Kyra’s thrusts. “Kyra. Kyra, please, please harder, honey. Kyra…yes!” Kyra’s own body, alive and thrumming with need and arousal clenches in sympathy as Mary’s body shatters and contracts under her skillful hand. She holds her fingers deep, impossibly deep, inside of Mary’s spasming sex and furiously rubs her clit as Mary writhes through her orgasm, Kyra’s name falling in an erotic litany from her lips.  
Mary comes back to herself slowly and it is to feel Kyra’s thumb still stroking her clit, though so very softly and her fingers still pressed incredibly deep inside her fluttering opening. She drags her eyelids open and blinks up at the blonde straddled over her hips. “Kyra,” she whispers, the word catching in her dry throat. She moans softly as she registers the touch of Kyra’s thumb over her.  
“Too much?” Kyra asks, looking down at where they are still joined, her voice deep and roughened. “Too sensitive?”  
“Mmmm,” Kyra makes a tight circle around her clit and Mary dissolves into shudders. “Mmmm-mmmm.” Kyra presses a little firmer against Mary’s aching clit and begins a slow movement with her wrist, shallowly thrusting her fingers. “Oh,” Mary gasps as Kyra rubs that spot inside of her nobody else has ever reached. “I don’t, I don’t know if I, if I can, I…” Kyra presses firmer and speeds up the thumb on her clit.  
“You can.” She says firmly. Her tone sends a bolt of heat to Mary’s core and she is struck by the urge to feel that incredible, pouty mouth everywhere she can. Kyra rubs against her spot again and Mary is struck by the thought that if she doesn’t know what it feels like to have those lips, oh god those lips on her she will actually die. Mary reaches up to tangle a hand in Kyra’s impossibly mussed hair and she exerts the gentlest pressure on the younger woman’s head. Kyra snaps up to meet her eyes, her expression confused and searching. Mary is blushing deep crimson and her lower lip is trapped beneath her teeth again, but she pushes gently again.  
“Please?” She whispers, her eyes begging Kyra to understand what she needs. Kyra brings a hand up to caress Mary’s cheek, waiting. And Mary has never really been shy about sex, so she brushes her fingers against Kyra’s mouth. “I want to feel your mouth on me.” She says boldly. “Please.” Kyra’s face lights up even as desire darkens her eyes.  
“Mmmm,” she murmurs, already trailing a path down Mary’s body with her lips and tongue. “All you had to do was ask.” She nips at a hipbone before covering Mary’s sex with her mouth. A gush of wetness meets her tongue and she laps it eagerly, savoring the heady flavor. She hums her appreciation and the vibrations shock Mary, her hips thrusting up against Kyra’s mouth. She opens for those amazing lips, feeling their softness and fullness against her most intimate place thrills Mary deeply and she wonders how the pink of Kyra’s lips looks against the pink of her. Her thoughts derail, however, as Kyra’s tongue snakes out to lick her from base to tip, pressing inside of her and mining the liquor from her release. Mary feels Kyra swallow and it’s so beautiful and sexy that her body is on fire again and she knows Kyra feels it as she moans against her sex and nudges Mary’s straining clit with her nose. Mary wants to savor the experience of Kyra kissing and licking and tasting her but Kyra is thrusting her tongue tirelessly into Mary’s body and then licking up to her clit. Mary arches up to meet as much of Kyra’s mouth as she can and she doesn’t want this to be over so soon, but she’s still so aroused from her climax and Kyra’s lips are encircling her clit and sucking and she’s gone, flying and bucking against Kyra’s mouth as she arches impossibly before crashing back down to Earth and Kyra’s wicked tongue licking her juices.  
Kyra’s languid moan of appreciation is deliciously sinful and Mary revels in the feeling of the blonde kissing back up her body, trailing her tongue unashamedly over skin and blessing both her nipples with suckling kisses before meeting Mary’s lips. Kyra kisses her deeply, pressing her tongue between Mary’s lips and the shock of her own taste on Kyra’s mouth makes Mary shudder. An erotic reminder of what Kyra just did for her.  
“So amazing.” Kyra whispers against her mouth and Mary can’t stop her tongue from licking out to trace Kyra’s swollen lips, tasting the other woman mixed with herself and Kyra’s hips thrust automatically towards Mary at the feel of the older woman cleaning her face. Mary just moans in agreement before bringing heavy arms up to wrap around Kyra’s small frame. She entwines their legs until they are braided together and Kyra lets herself fall into Mary’s side as Mary’s entire body deflates.  
“God,” she whispers finally, stroking fingers through Kyra’s hair and rubbing her back mindlessly. “That felt so good. So fucking good.” Kyra nods her agreement, head pillowed against Mary’s breast. She cuddles deeper in at the feel of Mary’s nails dragging lightly up and down her body.  
“Very good.” Kyra whispers, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of Mary’s breast. And it does feel very good to lay with Mary like this, wrapped up in the older woman’s warmth.  
Mary comes back to herself and her reality slowly. It’s less panic and more creeping dread. Because the show might be ending and Kyra might be moving back east, but she is still very married. And Mary is still very married and they just had the best sex of her life on a dressing room couch. It’s less fear about what their spouses would do if they found out and more a deep sadness that this is over and it won’t ever happen again.  
“I can hear you thinking.” Kyra whispers against Mary’s rapidly cooling skin. Mary hums noncommittally, absently rubbing Kyra’s back. Kyra props herself up on her elbow. “Do you regret it?” She sounds casual but Mary knows her well enough to note the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tightness around her mouth. Her answer matters to Kyra and for some reason that makes her feel better.  
“No,” she answers truthfully, looking Kyra in the eyes for the first time and almost laughing out loud. She is impossibly mussed and rumpled, bite marks littering the pale skin of her torso, lipstick kissed off and smudged and her hair is…indescribable. Mary knows she should regret it, but somehow in the blissed out space of her afterglow she only feels a pleasant humming in her body and the light aftershocks of her orgasms. The regret, she’s sure, as well as the guilt, will come later.  
“Good,” Kyra nods, satisfied. “I don’t either. I do regret that we waited so long, until the show ended.” Mary personally thinks that the only good thing about this was that they waited so long and didn’t let it happen way back in season five when this could have become a problem. She knows as much as she would have tried to have resisted, if it would have been possible, she would have come to Kyra again and again for this, consequences be damned. “We could have had so much more time,” Kyra continues. It is on the tip of Mary’s tongue to ask about Kyra’s husband, but she bites the comment back. If she does, Kyra will ask about hers and the last thing she wants to talk about to the woman who just fucked her senseless is her husband waiting for her at home. Mary hums again, pulling Kyra just a little bit closer and focusing completely on memorizing the feel of the younger woman pressed against her, the softness of her breasts, the dip of her belly and way their legs were entwined together.  
After a long silence, Kyra sighed. “This isn’t going to happen again, is it?” She asks and she pins Mary with one of Brenda’s laser stares, the kind that sears right through a person’s skin and looks right into their soul.  
Mary means to say no, but what comes out is, “would you want it to?” Kyra rises to her knees this time and peers down at Mary relaxing unabashedly nude beneath her. She reaches out to trace over the woman’s brow, then the curve of her cheekbone and the line of jaw. She brushes her lips and tucks a lock of luscious hair, still perfectly styled, behind her ear.  
“Yes.” She says simply and leans down to capture Mary’s lips in a heartbreakingly tender kiss. “I would want you all the time,” she confesses, smoothing her palms down Mary’s arms and clasping her hands. An odd lump forms in Mary’s throat at the indefinable expression in Kyra’s eyes as she trails them over Mary’s naked form. Maybe, Mary thinks, she is trying to memorize her, too. “So maybe it’s actually better this way.” Kyra says finally. Mary reaches up to cup Kyra’s face and Kyra nuzzles into her palm, pressing a kiss to it.  
“You’re wonderful.” Mary whispers and she’s briefly embarrassed by how reverent she sounds, but it’s also the most honest thing she has ever said to Kyra so she doesn’t take it back. Kyra smiles and leans down to kiss her again and Mary tries not to think that it feels like goodbye.  
Kyra tugs her wrinkled clothes back on. “You should call me next time you’re in New York.” Mary smooths her dress down her body and shoves her ruined underwear into the pocket of her sweater. Kyra watches, fidgeting with her hands, and Mary grabs the younger woman and kisses her fiercely, tongue demanding entrance to her mouth, bruising her lips to avoid responding. Mary knows that she will spend the majority of her next trip to New York staring at Kyra’s number in her phonebook. And she knows she will not call.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this, so comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated!


End file.
